


straight for your thighs like the cake you ate

by glitteration



Series: everybody knows i'm a mf'ing monster [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Loyalty Kink, Washington DC AU, unintentional exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 10:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13878861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteration/pseuds/glitteration
Summary: i wanted you to know that i am ready to go; my heartbeat, heartbeat.ORsecretary of state kane eats out president griffin under the resolute desk, written for the '18 kabby kinkmeme.





	straight for your thighs like the cake you ate

**Author's Note:**

> fits into the justify the cost universe, if not that series' specific timeline. (AKA, they're gonna fuck for the first time a different way in the story proper, and we can call this apocrypha.)

“We can’t do this.” Marcus isn’t sure how they got from discussing a defense bill to Abby unbuttoning her blouse, but she’s slipped the last button loose and the fabric gapes open to expose her bra and started working on her slacks now before he recovers from the shock and darts a frantic look at the unlocked door leading out to reception. “Abby—Madam President—”

“You promised, Marcus. Don’t you remember?” There’s a feline, victorious tilt to her lips that spells out his doom, and he swallows hard.

“I do.”

_"You want me, and I want you. Why do we have to complicate it?”_

_Maintaining a careful distance between them, Marcus looks around at the office they’re standing in, then back at her. “An affair with your secretary of state, barely a month into your first term? The press would tear you apart when they find out.”_

_“If. We could hide it from them.”_

_“They’ll find out, you know that as well as I do. If not now, later, and I won’t be the one who derails your presidency. Don’t ask me to do it, Abby, please.”_

_Her jaw clenches, but she nods. “And what about the day when there’s nothing to derail?”_

_Something in his chest seizes tight enough to be painful, and then immediately relaxes into warmth. “We can address the matter again.”_

_“Promise me?”_

_“I promise.”_

Abby takes a step closer, draping her slacks over the back of the desk chair as she goes, careful not to crease them. When he doesn’t immediately step away to maintain the respect her office deserves, her smile goes downright predatory. “It’s almost December. I have two more months, and we both know the press is more interested in hunting down scandal about the _incoming_ president right now. We can hide it for two months.”

“You’re still the president.” It’s a weak protest, and he can feel the heat of her nearly naked body through his clothes, shredding any resistance he might have left.

“What does that matter? Traditionally speaking, presidents are hardly celibate. I wouldn’t even be the first to prove that in the Oval, and I still want you, Marcus.” Her hand comes to lay over his heart, palm down flat over the insistent thud of his blood surging for her. “Do you still want me?”

“I don’t think I could stop if I tried.” Hearing the truth of it makes them both groan, and once he’s released it not touching her is impossible. Her hair is soft as silk when he fists his hands in the heavy mass and drags her towards him, feeling the lace of her bra catching on his shirt and the waxen smear of lipstick across his face and under it the impossible miracle that this is still happening, that Abby still wants him.

They stumble backwards together until his hip catches against the desk and jolts them both to the left, breaking the kiss with an awkward bump of noses that makes Abby laugh, throwing her head back and exposing the column of her throat. It’s barely worth a chuckle but he joins her for the sheer joy of the moment, because by some miracle she’s wanted this as much as he has, even with eight years and barely more than a few casual hugs shared between them for the last eight years.

 _"Eight years.”_ He doesn’t realize he’s said it aloud until Abby’s laugh cuts off sharply and she stares at him with pupils blown wide, cheeks reddening.

“Eight years,” she agrees, twitching a brow in the sort of self-satisfied way he knows means ‘if you’d listened to me, it wouldn’t have taken this long’. His breath catches, and acting on pure want he touches that graceful swoop with a fingertip, palm cupping her cheek. He’d spent every single moment of those long years pretending even that smallest motion doesn’t drive him absolutely mad. In the situation room, in hotel conference rooms and Air Force One and from behind her desk…

His eyes snap to the desk behind them, breath catching in his throat. “Can I—I want to do something.”

“We’ve already established I’ve been waiting for this for eight _years_ , Marcus. Whatever it is, yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oh, for—” His shirt front is going to bear the marks of her balling it in her fist and yanking him in for a kiss, but Marcus can’t bring himself to care. He’ll dump a mug of coffee on himself later if that’s what it takes, no one will notice wrinkles covered in cold premium roast. Abby releases him only once she deems him sufficiently quieted, shaking her head. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like something, and until then just _go_ for i— _oh_!” Her breath whooshes out in a surprised huff when he propels her backwards into the plush chair behind the desk and sinks to his knees in front of her, waiting. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Heart in his throat, Marcus lets his eyes stray back to the desk for a long, purposeful moment before looking back up at her, praying she’ll understand what he doesn’t quite know how to explain: that she’s not just _the_ president, she’s _his_ president. He’s sworn an oath to obey her orders and promised to see out her agenda in the world, and he’s spent eight years pretending that doesn’t call to the man as much as the public servant, in infinitely less high minded ways.

“ _Oh_.” She chuckles softly, and he feels his cheeks redden. “Is it a me thing or a commander in chief thing?” The answer must be clear on his face, because she doesn’t wait for him to speak. “‘I will bear true faith and allegiance’. I know I accused you of not being able to leave the service behind once, but I certainly didn’t expect to have been _this_ right.”

Embarrassment flips his stomach, and he clears his throat. She’s right; uncomfortably right, and knowing she’s accurately assessed what he wants and why leaves him with new empathy for insect collections, pinned under glass for careful examination and collection of each inner working. “If you’d rather not—”

“Shhh, it’s all right. I didn’t say I had a problem with it.” She tilts her head, studying him, and he has to pull to parade rest like the eternal soldier she named him or risk squirming under her gaze. “Do you want me to make it an order?”

He shudders, eyelids falling briefly shut. “Please.”

“Look at me.” His eyes snap open and she spreads her legs, drawing her fingertips up one inner thigh in invitation “Get your mouth on my cunt, Secretary Kane. _Now_. Don’t keep your president waiting.”

“The door…” Even as he shuffles forward on his knees until his shoulders are wedged snug between her thighs, Marcus has just enough presence of mind left to remember the office is technically open, and her secretary is sitting just outside. “You have to admit, this is fairly high risk behavior for two people trying to keep a secret.”

“Tsing’s a professional, Marcus. She won’t let anyone in, and she won’t come in herself without letting me know first. Jackson’s on the Hill, and none of his staff would interrupt me. We shouldn’t take too long or get too loud, but with the shades drawn, we might be safer in here than anywhere else.” She fists one hand in his hair and tugs gently, urging him on. “For a man who wanted me to give him orders, so far you haven’t given me much evidence you’re any good at following them.”

“You make a compelling argument.” She has to muffle a surprised yelp when he leans down and nuzzles up against the nude lace of her panties without fanfare. She smells like honey and almonds and growing arousal, sharp in his nostrils. He gulps air in loud whuffs, drawing her scent deeper, pleasure-drunk and unable to care that he sounds like an animal in rut.

Abby doesn’t seem to mind, he notes with a rush of possessive greed. He hasn’t even touched her yet and the silk keeping her from being completely exposed to him shines under the bright lighting in the office, a darker wet spot growing at the crux of her thighs. He locks his mouth over the evidence of how much Abby wants him and sucks like he’s trying to cleave a peach’s flesh from its pit, throat working again and again. She muffles a loud moan in the crook of her arm and the hand in his hair tightens past the point of discomfort right into pain, making his cock twitch in his pants. Her hips move in insistent little circles as he nurses at her through her panties, the rhythm stuttering and then staying in place and intensifying as she does her best to ride his face in the position they’re in, grinding her clit against the bridge of his nose.

“Marcus, goddamnit.” She drapes one leg over his shoulder, stretching the fabric under his tongue and giving him tantalizing tastes of bare skin with the new angle. “Enough lead-up, get your mouth where I want it and make me come. _Now_.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Tugging her panties to one side, he seals his mouth around her clit and sucks, _hard_ , fierce satisfaction surging in his chest when she has to stifle a shriek. Her cunt clenches around his fingers with an answering desperation when he slips two inside and fucks her with them and Abby mutters low, husky affirmations and demands for another, and harder, and rub upwards and oh god, Marcus, right there as her inner walls ripple around him and herald her approaching orgasm. “That’s it, Abby,” he answers her mindlessly, kissing the words into the slick skin beneath his mouth. “Come for me, show me what you look like when I make you fall apart, I’ve wanted to see it for eight _years_ , I need to see it.” Her thighs jump, heel digging hard into his back, and he lets all the words bubbling up in his heart escape his lips without censoring them, too focused on Abby to care if he embarrasses himself. “There you go, that’s it, you’re so beautiful when let go for me. So perfect, I love watching you, love you so much…”

Abby’s body jumps like she’s grasped a live wire when she comes, nails digging into his scalp. Her cunt clamps down on his fingers and his head spins, breath coming fast. That’s how she’ll feel around his cock, the same velvet clutch and strength trying to hold him inside her for as long as she wants him.

He gentles his mouth, pressing his tongue flat to her clit and rubbing gently when she doesn’t push him away. _Again_ , he thinks wildly, _I need to see her come again_.

The buzz of the intercom is a bucket of cold water to the face. Marcus freezes then slides deeper under the desk, fingers still inside her. He makes to pull away entirely and her hand tightens in his hair again in warning and gives him a little shake before letting up. “I didn’t tell say you could stop, Secretary Kane.”

Common sense says if Abby can’t gather her wits enough to minimize the scandal they’re found in, he needs to do what duty demands of him and save her from her own choices. On the other hand, the story they’ll print regardless will paint things as they are: the president found half-naked with a prominent member of her cabinet crouched beneath her desk like a loyal dog. _Everyone would know._ The thought hits him like a bolt of lighting. They’d know what she means to him, the things he wants to do to her. _For_ her. He presses the heel of his free hand to his cock, suppressing the urge to groan with a burst of stomach-churning _want_.

Unaware of the direction of his thoughts, Abby swipes a tissue at the skin around her mouth until he nods his approval, then she does up her blouse, nimble fingers flying with panicked speed that says she still remembers what he’d asked of her all those years ago, and now that she understands why she’ll keep up her end of things.

“I understand that but with all due respect senator, your office does _not_ include an all-access pass to the Oval. I don’t care how long you’ve known the president.”

The door opens in the middle of Tsing berating someone, and from beneath the desk Marcus can only guess at who until an unmistakable voice snaps back, “This matter doesn’t concern you. Abby, you—Abby?”

“I dropped my lipstick while I was fixing a smear from eating and it rolled under the desk. One moment, Thelonious, I’ve almost got it.” Giving him a helpless look, Abby smoothes her hair a little and sits back up. “It’s good to see you. Forgive me, but did we have a meeting I forgot about?”

“You didn’t, ma’am.” Tsing’s voice is sour, clipped on the vowels in a way that promises Jaha’s scheduling issues have only just begun. “I told him he needed to wait.”

Abby sighs. “It’s all right, Lorelei, you can go. He’s here now, might as well hear him out. I’m sure it’ll only be a moment.” He can hear the frown in her voice, and some of her usual tension seeps back into her frame. “But in the future, Thelonious, she’s right about that all-access pass. Make an appointment, please.”

“Apologies. It couldn’t wait.” With that barest nod to courtesy taken care of, Jaha launches into a speech about a bill he wants passed in the sort of didactic tone Marcus remembers well from their time in the senate together. He’d made open debate a nightmare; he’s no better now, but nestled quietly between Abby’s thighs, fingers still knuckle-deep inside her is a much better way to survive the experience.

Tentatively, he crooks his fingers and rubs the corrugated knot of tissue beneath his fingertips, kissing her thighs and nuzzling affectionately at the soft skin between cunt and thigh. The lithe muscles of her legs clench and release before falling open in response, stretching wider and begging him for more without reprimand. He speeds up the motion of his hand, lowering his head to lick at the skin stretched taut around his fingers, pointing the tip of his tongue to thrust it inside with him. Abby coughs loudly above him, the grip she has on his hair tight enough to yank a few strands out and she drags him up until his breath hits her clit.

“—ought to be investing in… Abby, are you all right? You look red.”

“It’s called menopause,” she snaps, pushing his face into her until Marcus forms a seal with his mouth and sucks at the swollen pink nub he’s been lapping at. “Get to the point, Thelonious, or this meeting will end with an embarrassing security escort out. I have other meetings, with people who bothered to _schedule them beforehand_ , and now I need to have some water before I get to them.”

“...well.” He laughs softly at the affront in Jaha’s voice, making Abby jump in her seat when it reverberates against tender flesh. “As I was saying, with more military investment…”

His droning is good cover for the wet sounds Marcus can’t help making as he fucks Abby with his fingers, twisting them on each push in when the first time he does it makes her fake a coughing fit as her hand spasms in his hair. Knowing that he’s about to make her come in front of someone else, even if it’s Jaha and he has no idea it’s happening spurs him on past the gathering ache in his jaw, and when Abby’s body seizes and relaxes he doesn’t slow down, perversely determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her he can while Jaha looks on.

Marcus loses track of Jaha entirely then, his focus narrowed down to Abby, the pink shell of her cunt and the little sounds she can’t quite hold back anymore and the way she expands to fill the room and become his horizon. He feels mindless, drowning in the taste of her and suspended in the lack of need to do anything but concentrate on Abby and show her a fraction of what he feels for her.

Beyond the peaceful buzzing in his ears he can hear her dismiss Jaha, but she’d told him only to stop when she gave the order and he holds to it, mouth working over her clit, gentling when she inhales sharply and tugs at his hair, hips jerking in one last burst of pleasure.

“Marcus. Marcus, enough. _Stop_.” Breathing hard, he drops back to his heels, licking his lips and staring up at her. She _was_ red, he noted with satisfaction, and it must show in his face because her cunt clenches around his fingers again. “Kiss me.” He pushes upwards, swaying a little as staying crouched on his heels for so long reminds him his knees will take a dimmer view of this than the rest of him. Abby steadies him and meets him halfway, smearing wetness along her cheeks when his first enthusiastic lunge to press their lips together lands off-center and drawing him in with the hand still in his hair for a long kiss. “God, I wish we had more time. I didn’t even get to touch you.” She leans her forehead against his, breathing as rapid as his own. “But that was the kind of close we shouldn’t risk, so... next time.”

 _Next time_. He pulls in a bracing breath, pulling away from her reluctantly. “Next time.” He slips his fingers free of her body and brings them up to his lips to clean, catching her eyes halfway through. The glint in them eyes is nearly enough to make him through caution to the wind and dive back in, but with a mental shake he pushes away the impulse to sink back into the peaceful place where Abby is the entirety of his world. “ _Next time_.”

She nods, tone businesslike even as her eyes stay hot. “Go through my study and out through the door in the dining room. Now, before we get ourselves into real trouble.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins, snapping a salute sharp enough to pass muster with the least approving field marshal. “I’ll say I came to get something from Jackson’s people if anyone asks.”

“Good. Marcus?”

He stops with his hand on the door, not sure what the new note in her voice means. “Yes?”

“I do too, you know. Love you.”

 


End file.
